


Unholy Ruckus

by Bright_Days (Mirradin)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crack, F/M, M/M, Multi, de-anon from the kink meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirradin/pseuds/Bright_Days
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France and Spain are keeping everyone else awake, so everyone else decides to give them a taste of their own medicine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unholy Ruckus

To keep herself awake during the duller parts of meetings, Hungary liked to people-watch. The current discussion had passed that stage some time ago, and now she honestly couldn’t remember what it had been about without checking her notes. But it had given her plenty of time to study the other side of the table. She had watched Canada for a full ten minutes before deciding that he and Ukraine had indeed resolved their argument, and were probably going to make it up to one another after they had gone to bed. And the way Poland was only offering terse sideways glances at the Nordic group – what was going on there? Trade disagreement or personal disagreement? Vietnam had brought a small paintbrush and a tray of ink, instead of her usual pen, and that was probably some kind of code, though deciding who it was directed at was going to take some doing.  
  
Hungary ran her eyes along the row of nations opposite. Bulgaria was staring at his notes as though lost in reverie – Greece was clearly asleep on the table – France was wearing a small smirk, though thankfully not _only_ that – Spain was leaning back in his chair with his eyes half-closed and red creeping up his throat and cheeks…hmm.  
  
Actually, now that she studied it, that expression seemed somehow familiar. Hmm. Excited smile, growing noticeably tense around the edges; small, rapid breaths, his nostrils flaring a little with each one – oh. _Oh._  
  
And then the entire meeting was woken up with a shock as Spain threw his head back, grabbed the table, and let out a shout of assorted incoherent Romance languages. Bulgaria and Latvia jerked upright, Greece opened his eyes and looked around in confusion, Italy’s chair went backwards, and France…as Spain settled back down and slumped forward with a dopey grin, France did not seem remotely surprised. In fact, his own smile was distinctly satisfied.  
  
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Hungary growled under her breath. Bad enough that they were in the official closet every time _she_ wanted to use it, bad enough that they showed up late and left early, with bruises that clearly stated why, but now they couldn’t even restrain themselves during meetings? What idiot had placed those two next to each other?  
  
She carried on fuming while Spain stumbled to his feet and excused himself to use the bathroom. Something had better be done, and _soon_ …  
  
*  
  
The need to have something done was drastically accelerated that evening. Spain’s antics earlier had put her in the mind to see that same expression on Austria’s face, and had the added benefit that his room was too far from either of theirs for them to be disturbed.  
  
Standing in the corridor outside, Hungary heard the murmur of voices that meant Austria had company. She knocked smartly, and pushed the door open without waiting for a reply.  
  
Switzerland frowned at her from the chair by the desk, Romano glowered from his perch on the bed, Liechtenstein offered a shy smile from beside him, and Austria, in the armchair, looked up with a frown that smoothed away when he realised who it was. “Hungary,” he said, standing up. “May I offer you something to drink?”  
  
“No, thank you,” Hungary replied. “I didn’t realise that you were going to have company this evening.”  
  
“Neither did I,” Austria said helplessly. “They just turned up–”  
  
“You’d have come too, if you had to sleep next door to all that!” Romano exploded. “They don’t shut up till _midnight_ , and then it’s only for half an hour!”  
  
“Austria was kind enough to loan us his floor yesterday,” Switzerland said coolly, with a look that said this was the bare minimum of what Austria should have done, and also heavily implied bullets. “I was hoping he could be persuaded to host us again tonight.”  
  
Hungary looked from Switzerland’s clenching hands, to Romano’s furious scowl, to the dark circles under Liechtenstein’s downcast eyes, and finally to Austria’s rumpled irritation. In the back of her mind, something very professional went ‘click’.

“What we need,” she said firmly, “is a plan of attack.”

Switzerland’s glare, when he turned it on her, had something hopeful mixed in with it. Hungary smiled. When Switzerland set his mind to something, the results were usually rock-solid. This looked promising.

*

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Romano grumbled.

Switzerland didn’t bother to answer as he strode purposefully through the corridor.

“You and Hungary? Two of the best damn generals in Europe, and _this_ is what you come up with?” Switzerland didn’t need to look to know that Romano was glaring at the back of his head. Particularly with the ecstatic shouts that were swiftly becoming more audible. “It’s Spain, dammit! I can’t get it up with Spain getting laid next door!”

“I am tired of sleeping on Austria’s floor,” Switzerland said curtly. “And so are you. I am tired of being hounded out of my own room because your former guardian cannot keep his voice down. And if the situation is not resolved swiftly, Romano, you may be assured that I will resort to violence.” He swiped his key cared through the reader, grimly imagining it as France’s neck.

Romano followed him into the room. “It’s still Spain,” he muttered, wincing as said nation let out a particularly penetrating moan. “I can’t feel sexy with _Spain_ there!”

“Then don’t,” Switzerland snapped, throwing his jacket over the back of the chair. “Act. Didn’t you ever learn how to act?”

If possible, Romano turned even redder. “Not like that! That’s _perverted!_ ”

Switzerland was usually punctilious about respecting Romano’s demands for personal space, but desperate times called for desperate measures. As the other nation drew breath, he grabbed Romano’s hair-curl and pulled it firmly.

Romano’s further tirades were abruptly derailed into a loud, throaty moan.

Switzerland pulled him closer, keeping one hand on the curl, and shoving Romano’s jacket off with the other. After all, _one_ of them had to be capable of keeping to the plan.

*

Spain was splayed across the bed like an offering, miles of tanned skin bare to France’s eyes, his tousled hair damp with sweat, his eyes bright and hazy with arousal, his smile broad and wavering with pleasure. Every thrust made those long, strong arms twitch across the sheets, made Spain’s powerful legs tighten around him, and drew a cry from that kiss-bruised mouth.

Beautiful, France thought, with a particularly well-aimed thrust that made Spain arch like a bow, garbled Spanish falling from his lips. Spain was so wonderfully _beautiful_ when he was spread out under France. Beautiful in his passion, in his desire, in his abandon…

The sounds of lovemaking beginning next door were completely irrelevant to France, focused as he was on Spain’s features and sounds. Let others tryst as they would; _he_ intended to devote his attention to his beloved –

Spain’s forehead creased in a frown. Then he turned his head to look at the wall. France frowned and leaned down to press his tongue to one of Spain’s nipples. He was not accustomed to having his partners distracted in his bed. He pressed a kiss to Spain’s collarbone and redoubled his efforts; he would make Spain focus on _him_ , and not that noise from next door.

Spain’s face suddenly contorted in horror, and he shoved France away. “France, stop! Stop!”

“What?” France demanded, sitting up. Surely he had not been doing anything _that_ bad?

Spain, however, was still staring in horror at the wall. “It’s Romano!”

France spared the wall a look. Now that he was paying attention, the muffled shouts coming through the wall were distinctly Italian. Then again, what of it? “Spain, he’s conducting a tryst, not being murdered. Perhaps we could return to doing the same?”

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Spain said, waving his hands urgently. France ducked a particularly frantic gesture. “It’s _Romano_ , I remember when he was a cute little colony, I used to look after him! I can’t think about him having sex! It’s – it’s not – it’s just _wrong_!”

“Then I suggest you think about _us_ having sex,” France purred, bucking his hips. Spain’s eyes slid shut, but then he shook his head. “France, no, I can’t –”

France stopped reluctantly. “Why is this –”

He was cut off by a passionate shout of, “ _SVIZERRA!_ ” The name was like a bucket of ice water down France’s spine.

Switzerland?

Italy Romano in bed with _Switzerland_?

The very thought was as effective a mood-killer as one could ask for. France shuddered and drew back from Spain, who seemed about as aroused as France from the image.

“Perhaps we could wait until they have stopped,” he offered. “You could hide under a pillow to keep the noise out.”

Spain nodded and dived under the covers, grabbing a pillow and wrapping it over his head.

*

In the room above Spain’s, Australia got a thoughtful look on his face.

Turkey idly looked up from his book. “What?”

Australia swung his heel against the floor. “They’ve stopped.”

“I heard.”

Australia grinned. It was a grin that combined hopefulness and wicked mischief. “Think maybe we could get some of our own back?”

Turkey put his book down without bothering to mark his place.

*

Spain was happy under the pillow. Well, happier. The pillow blocked out any hint that his little ward was being bedded by Switzerland in the room next door. It was a very nice pillow. Spain liked it.

Now all he had to do was get rid of the memory of his little Romano shouting Switzerland’s name. Or, well, anybody’s name, at least in _that_ tone. But he was making progress, yes he was, it was helpfully quiet under all the feathers –

A sound broke through. Spain froze in dread.

Another sound followed. Yes. No doubt about it. It was a moan.

Spain whimpered in despair and pulled the pillow tighter around his head. It was too cruel of Switzerland to make Romano reach that volume, to induce that gabble of – wait. That wasn’t Romano.

Spain yanked the pillow off his head before he could consider the inadvisability of doing so. “France? Is that --?”

“Turkey, yes,” France concluded. “Impressive lungs, no?”

Spain winced at another, particularly loud cry from next door, which fortunately was not followed by any more noises. _Oh thank goodness, they’ve finished. Now to forget that I ever heard that happening._ The groans from above, interspersed with frustrated Turkish, continued unabated. Spain was fine with that. Spain could _work around_ that.

France gave him a rather wan smile. “Shall we continue?”

Spain nodded fervently -- _anything_ to distract him from earlier – and reached for France.

Australia chose that moment to add his voice to the events overhead. Australia also had very impressive lungs.

The country of love and the country of passion sat still on Spain’s dishevelled bed, listening in growing horror.

After a while, Spain cleared his throat. “France, do you think that England ever –”

“—ever told Australia that the difference between dirty talk and abuse is a matter of volume?”

Spain gave France a dubious look. “Everyone knows that’s not true. _Turkey_ definitely knows that’s not true,” to go from his very vocal enthusiasm, anyway…

“Regardless.” France sighed and reached for his discarded clothing. “As it seems we are not to get any peace here … my room?”

Spain climbed off the bed to look for his shirt.

*

The Netherlands, Greece, and New Zealand eyed each other uncertainly from opposite sides of Greece’s room.

“If neither of you want to …” Greece pointed out quietly.

“It’s just acting.” New Zealand laced her fingers together and stretched her arms over her head. “I _like_ acting.”

They both looked at the Netherlands, who shrugged. “Anything to make those two shut up.”

There was a quick triple knock on the door, and both New Zealand and the Netherlands straightened up. That meant Luxemburg had seen their targets approaching, and would even now be hurrying around to alert their partners in sanity.

Netherlands stubbed out his cigarette and pulled out a belt. “You ready?”

New Zealand rolled her shoulders and started mentally getting into character. “Ready.”

*

They had been in France’s room for less than two minutes, and were engaging in some very enthusiastic kissing, when the noises started.

Yells. Moans. The _thwap_ of leather on – well, it _could_ have been skin; it might also be the bedframe, or possibly the chair. Spain groaned into France’s mouth, and reminded himself that it was Greece’s room. Greece frequently had partners. Greece had good taste in partners; this point was debateable but Spain was going to cling onto it for the sake of his sanity. He could ignore any sounds coming out of Greece’s room. That would be the polite thing to do. He determinedly blanked out the commotion, telling himself repeatedly that nobody he knew was involved.

There was a very low male laugh, and an eager female voice yelled, “Oh, yes! Spank me harder!”

If he’d had a suspicious mind, Spain would have said that this appeared to be a cue.

*

Finland twisted the edge of the blanket between his fingers, listening intently to the shouts from the nearby room. “Can’t be long now – are you ready, Sve?”

Sweden looked up from his lap. Despite his general lack of expression, his cheeks were dark pink. “You _sure_ the kids won’t come looking?”

Finland nearly growled. “We left them with a bowl full of chocolate and the television on – they know what to do if they eat themselves sick, and it’s more likely they’d go sneaking out to meet their friends than come looking for us!” He jumped at New Zealand’s cry. “That’s our signal – come on!”

Sweden stood up, slowly undoing his belt. “Feel like a circus seal,” he mumbled. “’S not exactly sexy…”

Finland stood up and slid his hand around the small of Sweden’s back. “Is that more like it?”

Sweden’s eyes darkened, and he slammed Finland back against the wall.

*

It was possible to endure, France told himself sternly, ears bombarded by Finnish pleas, Dutch curses, and eager begging in strongly accented English. There was no need to be disturbed by the actions of others; it was even possible to draw pleasure from it. If only Sweden would stop slamming Finland into the wall hard enough to make the bed drift across the floor, he and Spain could enjoy the sounds of others lost to lust, and then –

*

“I think that’s enough time,” Canada said, listening carefully. He looked at Ukraine and blushed. “Er – are you –”

Ukraine laughed, and pulled him down onto the bed.

*

France stopped, and sat back on his heels.

After a moment, painfully calmly, he said, “Spain, I must apologise for any insult I may have offered you when we had to listen to Romano. I commend you on your ability to remain in the same room. Perhaps we could leave this one?”

Spain looked at him for a moment, and then offered, “Meeting room…?”

*

“Incoming,” Estonia said, studying his laptop.

“Already?” Romania asked. He turned around and cleared his throat. “Okay, everyone,” he called, “Eastern Europe Orgy is a go!”

Cards vanished under the table, blankets were shucked off and thrown where they would be most comfortable, and Poland, Latvia, Moldavia, Belarus, and the Czech Republic began arranging themselves. Estonia took the time to shut his laptop and put it away carefully.

Bulgaria looked up dubiously at the creature by Romania’s side. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Don’t worry,” Romania said with a sharp smile. “He’s completely under control.”

*

The sight that greeted Spain’s eyes when he flung open the meeting room door could possibly have been described, but only by someone with the stomach for summoned beings that looked like nothing on earth, the ability to see through magical effects, and the patience to sort out eight bodies and their various arrangements.

Since Spain possessed none of these properties, and lacked any inclination to describe the scene in the first place, he went straight into reverse with a whoop of surprise. France, who was becoming steadily disillusioned, simply towed him towards the nearest closet.

*

It was a pity they had to do this in secret, Iceland thought as Lithuania lifted him up onto one of the shelves. He wasn’t a child any more, no matter what Norway and Denmark thought, and whatever claim Poland had had on Lithuania had run out decades ago.

He leaned into the kiss as Lithuania’s fingers gently traced over his shoulders and neck, and opened his eyes in surprise when the door opened and light fell in.

“So sorry to interrupt you,” France growled, shutting the door again.

*

Cuba was in the bathroom. Russia was with him. So was China.

Russia looked up long enough to give them a dismissive gesture. France’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Don’t give up,” Spain said, anxious to restore his lover’s spirits. An idea occurred to him. “Hold on – I know somewhere no one else will be.”

France looked up with hope in his eyes. “Really?”

*

“Here,” Spain said, hurriedly pulling France through the doors.

France looked around sceptically. “The reception room? _This_ is your idea of a good place to conduct a tryst?”

“Well,” Spain answered, tugging on the buttons of France’s shirt, “There’s absolutely no chance that someone is going to hear us and interrupt. It’s the _reception room_. Who else would be around here?”

France felt a deep wave of relief as he realised the logic of this. “Of course,” he said, taking hold of Spain’s shoulders and pulling him down onto one of the sadly poorly-upholstered chairs. Well, it would have to do for now. “Now … perhaps you could get back to – ah, _yes_ …” He leaned back against the wall as Spain’s hot mouth worked eagerly against his neck. Finally, _finally_ , after all the travails of that night, he could slide his hands down Spain’s back without worrying about interruption.

There was a high-pitched moan from the other side of the wall.

France’s hands froze in disbelief. Spain’s tongue stopped in its tracks.

There was another moan, and a breathy cry.

Spain and France separated enough to exchange incredulous looks. “ _Here?_ ” France demanded.

Spain chewed his lip. “Maybe we can ignore it?” he suggested.

“No,” France said, shaking his head as a delighted “ _Si! Si!_ ” drifted through the walls. “No, no, _no_ , I will not put up with this!”

Spain grabbed his hand. “There’s bound to be a hotel or something in town.”

“Excellent,” France said fervently, heading for the doors, and looking forward to a night in a place where absolutely none of his fellow nations could possibly intrude upon him.

*

In the next room over, the micronations sat staring at one of their number in startled and fascinated silence.

Molossia was the one to break it. “What the hell was all that for?” he growled, looking deeply suspicious.

Seborga just smiled and dealt the cards.


End file.
